Of Everything
by Gennerator
Summary: Miscellaneous shenanigans from Noodle's arrival to Murdoc's venture into the hellhole, in no particular order. Heavy on fluff, violence, and Noodle's hormones.
1. Impressions Blooming

"Dammit, Muds, you're not turning a ten-year-old into a Satanist!"

"I'm not_ tryin_' to, she found that shit on her own – !"

"Aw, guys, 'oore making 'er cry..."

Both men's heads snapped around in her direction, and it was all Noodle could do not to cringe. She'd just wanted to touch that shiny thing Murdoc always wore...it had looked interesting, and it had just been laying out on the coffee table, alone. She hadn't counted on Russell walking in on her examining it in the middle of the living room floor and having an apoplectic fit. She'd just – she hadn't meant to upset anyone. She felt her eyes water with intense humiliation against her will.

And because Murdoc looking at her with his creepily wide-open mismatched eyes and jutting carnivorous teeth was never really something she'd ever liked in and of itself, that really got her going. Her lip quivered and shivered and she bit it, but Murdoc was just so _fucking creepy _that she couldn't help herself, and a few tears squeezed past her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She sniffled a little helplessly, and watched Murdoc blink and lean instinctively away from her, expression uneasy. "Shit. Faceache – fix her or – something."

2D waved his lanky arms around, narrowly missing a nearby lamp and nothing short of panicked. "'oore the one 'oo made 'er cry, you do somfink!"

"I'll bash your _bloody fucking _face in, yeh useless fuckin' faggot son of a bitch – "

"For _Christ's_ sake, Muds, can you not be such a dick around the kid? "

Noodle watched the exchange a little abashedly, ducking her head and wiping at her cheeks. So far, she had a meager collection of about twelve or so English words she could use without thinking too hard, because she heard them more or less on a daily basis. Fuck was one of them. Bash was another.

She didn't have any clear idea what they were talking about, but Russell yelled at Murdoc a lot, and Russell was nice to her a lot, so...she could assume Russell didn't want her touching Murdoc's things because he didn't like Murdoc? Ah, these people. So complicated.

Well, they weren't looking at her anymore, so that made it easier for her to get her brief crying hitch under control. She watched them silently for about a minute more, up until the point where 2D said something and Murdoc turned to him with his thin olive lips parting and a low guttural hiss issuing from deep in his throat that could only indicate he was moving out of 'irritated' and going into 'kill somebody', and then she gently tugged his sleeve with a soft. "Mudo-kun?"

He whirled on her, and it provided her with great fascination to watch his face slacken from rabidly incensed to taken aback in a second, eyes darting around her face to ascertain if she was still crying. If she concentrated on the lavender one it wasn't so bad; almost pretty. His lips twisted and jerked convulsively a couple of times before he addressed her. "Eh, fuck, yeh. What."

She held his strange necklace out to him, glancing quickly at Russell to see his reaction. "I sorry. I give. No mine, yes?"

He accepted it gingerly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly with his other hand. "Um. Yeah. Sure."

"Is okay?"

"...sho'. Is okay."

She turned to Russell next, because he still looked superbly pissed and she didn't like any of her new family being superbly pissed. It was inevitable most of the time, but. "No mad at Mudo-kun. My. Me." She broke off, frustrated, then pointed at the Satan cross, still held in one of Murdoc's stocky hands. _"Pretty_."

For some reason Murdoc's lips curved sinuously into a slow smile in a way she'd only ever seen Murdoc manage to do, tongue curling out to run amusedly over his overly sharp teeth. "Oh, yeah. Pretty, she said, Lards. Guess I'm not the only one with some fuckin' taste around here after all – "

Russel's meaty fist shot out to crunch into his jaw before he'd even finished the sentence, and Noodle was left to tilt her head and wonder what he'd said.

* * *

Mmm. Never thought I'd write a Gorillaz fanfic. I forgot how much I obsessively love Murdoc's tongue.


	2. Early Days

Murdoc had just hit someone with his car. And it was a little shocking that he didn't feel guilty so much as just mildly surprised. He knew he was fucked up, but shit.

The boy was still on his windshield, arms and legs crumpled into a freakish parody of a dance, cheek smooshed against the glass and gaping lips giving Murdoc a clear view into his mouth. Two or three teeth hung perilously unanchored, just barely dangling from his gum line. As he watched the boy shifted weakly, and one dropped onto his tongue, blood oozing out after it.

Murdoc's hands were clenched hard on his steering wheel, arms stick-straight out in front of him. Shifting around underneath all his instinctual numbness was a quickly expanding sense of intrigue. For whatever reason; Murdoc sure as hell didn't know. But he couldn't look away from the person in front of him with the long long limbs and the spiky purple hair. Said person shifted again, eyes fluttering. Murdoc found himself similarly transfixed when he found himself being stared down. The boy didn't falter either, just looked at him with his open dark perversely innocent gaze.

He abruptly spat a tooth out, and it made a small pinging noise when it bounced off the windshield. Murdoc could hear people behind him, gasping and chattering and making a humming wall of stricken energy, but he couldn't pay attention to them. He was hypnotized by this person on his windshield who was staring straight at him.

"Bloody 'ell, mate," the boy croaked. "'oo might wanna get 'oor eyes looked at."

Then he passed out.

* * *

Murdoc's foot tapped impatiently, trying to align itself with a Syd Barrett song that had been stuck in his head all morning but too agitated to do so. He leaned as far back as his little metal chair would allow, legs straight out in front of him and arms crossed agitatedly across his chest. He'd thus far made two trips to two different vending machines, and was sorely disappointed to find that neither of them carried beer. His foot tapping crept up a tempo.

Why in the name of Satan was he at a fucking hospital?

He'd managed to jump out of his car with a quickness that bellied his unhealthy appearance and flee at top speed up until the point his lungs gave out two or three minutes later and he'd had to take refuge in a dumpster. He'd been forced to ditch the Vauxhall Astra, but it was most likely totaled and he'd stolen it in the first place anyway. He'd also probably have to stay on the down-low for a while; he wouldn't be performing any gigs any time soon.

(Not that he would anyway, with all the shit-luck he'd been having with bands recently. Why was it so fucking hard to find talent these days?)

And that was all well and good, because being Murdoc he was used to that kind of thing.

What he wasn't used to was purposefully being a dumb fuck and coming out of hiding to go loiter in a place he wasn't fond of in the first place.

He _hated _hospitals. Hospitals were _trash_. Sickly smelling cesspools without a speck of taste thriving with the pathetic underbelly of society, whining and moaning and writhing like the prideless worms they were. It made him _sick_.

Why the _fuck_ was he here?

His teeth ground together in a strangely hypnotic rhythm, nose wrinkling with distaste. At himself, mostly. He was here because he'd put someone in a coma, and for some reason he cared about that. Not in a 'Shit I put someone in a coma' kind of way, thank Satan for small favors, but in a 'I'll follow this guy around for no particular reason why am I doing this again?' kind of way. He didn't understand it, and he didn't like it, and for shit's sake he needed a beer. Or some vodka.

A nurse walked by him, little red heels tap-tap-tapping. He impulsively snagged her wrist, taking a little bit of pleasure when she stumbled. At the very least he could make someone else's day suck.

"'ey, how's that purple haired bloke holding up?" he asked blithely, ignoring the nasty look he got in return.

"Who?" she asked stiffly, and delicately tugged her wrist. He almost snickered. Oh, the outside world. She was going to have to gnaw his hand off to make him let go before he wanted to.

"Stringy guy. Slammed him with my car this morning." He leered at her. She wasn't particularly pretty, too bony for his tastes, but watching her get more and more uncomfortable made it worth almost as much as if she was.

"I can't keep up with every patient that comes in," she snapped, and jerked her wrist again. He released his grip and watched with great amusement as it overbalanced her. She gave him one last, venomous glare before she stalked away, heels echoing off the walls.

Now bereft of entertainment, Murdoc sighed angrily and got to his feet, loping down the stark white hallway to where he thought the information desk might be. He couldn't really remember. He didn't really care.

It turned out to actually be three hallways over, and by the time he'd found it he was seething. Why the fuck was he here again?

Oh, yeah. That stringy guy he'd slammed with his car that morning.

The man behind the desk looked half dead off his own boredom. He gave Murdoc a single dull glance before returning to his magazine.

There were a few things that pissed Murdoc off above the ordinary. People ignoring him was one of them.

The man jumped when Murdoc's fist slammed down in front of him, making a loud smack that resounded through the room and upsetting his pencil cup. Murdoc grinned toothily.

"'m looking for a friend," he stated, voice oozing charm. "Big skinny guy?"

His stare was off-puttingly flat. "Do you have a name?"

Fuck, these people and their fucking _names_. Who _cared?_ "He was in a coma last I saw."

The man's eyes squinted with sudden recognition. "That purple-haired guy?"

"Yeah!" Murdoc nodded vigorously. "That's the one!"

He leaned back in his padded wheely chair, exposing a subtle mustard stain that had been hidden in his fat folds. "Yeah, some maniac ran him down. He's in room 202."

Murdoc looked over to where his finger was pointing. He tapped his hand once on the desk and turned to go. "'ppreciate it, yeh little bitch."

Room 202 turned out to be not particularly far at all. Murdoc stepped inside and came face to face with a rather old, rather muscular nurse with pursed lips and yellowish eyes. She glared at him. He stared back.

"No visitors," she snapped.

"'ey, but I'm, I'm family!" he protested, because she had hurried forward and was now busily crowding him back out the door. He leaned up on his toes and caught a glimpse of purple hair and one heavily bruised eye. "I wanna know what's wrong, ya bloody harpy – "

"He has a fractured knee cap and a broken arm," she stated, now resorting to shoving. And damn was she strong. "One eye is permanently damaged and he's currently in a coma. You can visit him in an hour or two."

"But – "

"_No visitors_," she repeated, and shut the door in his face.

Murdoc stood there staring at it, a little dumbstruck. An hour?

After a few more moments of contemplation Murdoc shrugged and turned to leave. "Eh, fuck it."

He tried to tell himself every instinct in his body wasn't telling him to stay.

He later attributed it to the fact that he was arrested the second he set foot in the parking lot.

* * *

Roughly a week later Murdoc found himself in a disturbingly similar situation.

_Morbidly_ similar.

He rode with the boy in the ambulance this time, much to his own puzzlement. One major difference was that the boy was awake this time, blinking painfully slow and trying to turn his head to look around him. His mouth moved soundlessly, forming half-vocalized vowels Murdoc couldn't understand.

The other major difference was that Murdoc wasn't in danger via the good old blue boys, because the attractive little collection of girls who had been watching had fled the scene, and upon the officials' arrival Murdoc had lied his ass off. And Murdoc had a fairly dense ass. As far as anyone knew 2D was the poor ironic victim of a hit and run. And not the victim of a stunt gone awry.

It had been pretty funny to watch him fly out the car and hit the pavement like a ragdoll though, Murdoc had to admit.

On the other hand, Murdoc was once again feeling the not-so-subtle tugs of fascination, and that was what was really _got_ to him, struck him to the core. He'd never really believed in fate, he made his own existence, thanks, but. There was no way him putting someone in and out of a coma in the span of a week was a coincidence. Just no fucking way.

"'oo the 'ell are 'ew?"

Murdoc's attention snapped back like a rubber band. The boy (what the fuck was his name again? Steve? Gilbert? Ah fuck it.) was looking at him, gaze tired and half-lidded but decidedly awake.

"Depends," he tossed back. "Who the fuck're you?"

The boy's eyes clouded, clearly confused. "'m Stu. Y'know, you look an awful lot like 'at guy 'oo hit me…can' remember when…yesterday?"

Murdoc leaned back in his chair, mind switching over to technical mode. Stupid. Okay, well, that wasn't really a surprise. "Crazy, in'nit?"

Stu just barely nodded, forehead creasing with the effort. "Yeah. Crazy, man."

Then he closed his eyes sickly and sighed. Murdoc took the opportunity to let his eyes rove all over him. A little homo, true, but fucking shit was this the most interesting thing to happen to him all month. He was skinny, and tall; his feet poked out over the edge of the gurney. He wasn't _handsome_, necessarily, especially not all banged up like this, but under all the blood and bruising there was a certain prettiness to him, a kind of innocent charm that probably had all the tween girls writhing in their pants. Probably real _popular._

The idea was already festering, half-baked and crooked but there, in the back of his mind.

"Hey, Stewie," he said, pho-conversationally.

"Yeah?"

"You play any instruments?"


	3. Noodle's Introduction to Hormones

**I dunno what's going on!**: U gaiz. It's a drabble series. Nothing's going on. It's just a bunch of random scenes.

But thanks for the reviews, you sexy people.

* * *

The day Noodle realized she had a crush on Murdoc was the day she thought the world would end.

Because seriously. Holy fucking shit.

She'd just – been sitting on the living room floor, legs straight out and doodling away at her current art project (a monkey), and he'd walked by her with an absent "Hey there, darlin'," and she'd turned to watch him.

Then she realized she was admiring his natural loping swagger, and her head exploded.

She'd sat there for several moments, silently pondering the universe, and then she'd gathered up all her markers and streaked to her bedroom, knocking 2D flat on his ass on her way.

Because on her list of things to never do, let the band break up had first spot, and have romantic inclinations towards Murdoc was a pretty close second.

Holy fucking shit. Holy _fucking_ shit.

So Noodle had done what Noodle usually did when faced with a life-altering crisis, and clambered up onto her bed and folded all her lanky limbs together and held her back ramrod straight, and stayed like that. For two hours.

Well, it wasn't as if this was the end of the world. (Yes it was.) She would get over it soon; it was only fleeting infatuation. (She lived with him, and the only other crushes she'd ever had were Johnny Thunders and Adrian Brody. Deep shit was deep.) It wasn't as if there was even much about him to be attracted to anyway! (His swaaaager.) She would be fine. (Holy mother of shit, was she fucked or what?) Oh, give her a fucking break. Jesus.

She cracked an eye open to glare at the surrounding oxygen, because meditation had never failed her before and it irritated her that it would now. How inconvenient.

Mike chose that moment to leap at her from her closet, landing violently on her head and pulling her hair to keep from sliding off. Any other time and she might have accidentally kicked him out her window out of reflex, but she was too deeply and profoundly disturbed to even consider it now. Mike _oohed_ softly at her lack of response and pulled at one of her eyelids. She sighed and pulled him off of her, relocating him to her lap.

"Mike, can you keep a secret?"

He looked at her and tried to cram three fingers up her nose all at once.

She unperturbedly captured his hand in hers and leaned closer until her forehead was almost touching his. "_I believe I am attracted to Murdoc_."

He tried for four.

She sighed and leaned away, gazing out her window. "This is not a good thing." She loved Murdoc, she did. But notlikethatcoughhackhackwheeze.

Maybe she did. Ever loving Jesus, maybe she did.

She stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, pondering this, and then hissed out a few expletives in her own tongue that made her feel better but didn't help much in the long run. She didn't like Murdoc. She _could not_ like Murdoc.

He was…he was Murdoc. And she was Noodle. And Noodle and Murdoc did not go together, because Murdoc was mean and sarcastic and nasty and Noodle didn't have more than friendly affections towards mean sarcastic nasty things.

And oh, yeah; he was old.

Old as in _middle-aged_.

Well, if you wanted to get technical then not really, but still. Old. In spirit, anyway.

Actually it would be more accurate to describe him in spirit as a spiteful fourteen year old with a constant supply of alcohol, but _still. Old._

And he was…he was _gross_. He was putrid and smelly and his underwear looked stupid. Why on earth would she –

Well his tongue was rather interesting.

Her neck cricked.

"_Mike,_" she breathed, clutching him so close to her he squicked in protest. _"I'm attracted to Murdoc."_

This wasn't allowed to happen! Holy shit, how did this happen?

Mike squalled and shoved at her face, and she released him. He hopped over to her desk and perched there, looking at her reproachfully. She stared back, feeling for all intents and purposes like a ten year old giggling to her diary about the new boy down the street. Except she was sixteen and horrified and there was no boy down the street, there was a forty year old man who lived naked in his Winnebago.

Then her stomach rumbled and reminded her that there was no sense worrying about what she couldn't control while she was hungry. Some lunch would be nice.

She cricked her finger at Mike and he forgave her, springing to her shoulders and looping an arm around her neck. Noodle briefly tapped her fingers against her knee and then stood, heading downstairs.

She found 2D there, rummaging through every cabinet in the kitchen. She paused to watch him, then went to the pantry for some pasta. Mike leaped onto the table and skidded off onto the floor. "What are you looking for?"

He pulled his head out from between a decrepit old box of graham crackers and a bottle of olive oil, blinking at her like he'd only just noticed her presence. "'ello, Noods. I can' find me Capp'n Crunch."

She silently handed it to him from where it had resided on the bottom shelf. He beamed, gap teeth saying hello. "Thanks!"

She hummed absently and set a pot of water on the stove to boil, then hopped up onto the counter. 2D poured himself a bowl of cereal, still smiling at his fortune. She bit her lip.

"…2D?"

"Yeah?" he asked, looking up at her. His milk overflowed and spilled all over the counter. He looked at it. "Wull shit."

She waited until he had sopped it all up before going on. "Have you ever liked someone you shouldn't like? Romantically?"

He quirked his head at her, eyes crinkling up in thought. It was a rare sight indeed, and Noodle cherished it.

"Um…yeah. Yeah, there was this bird next door when I was a pea, an' – wull – " He paused as if something had only just occurred to him. "We got in trouble," he finished, nodding sagely. "Don't do drugs, Noods."

She stared at him. Then she tried again.

"But what if…you liked someone you _really shouldn't_," she stressed. "Not just a little girl next door."

He suddenly straightened. "We talkin' abou' 'ew?"

Huh. He could catch the weirdest things. "Yes," she admitted, because she wasn't going to get very far if she didn't.

He scratched his head and then seated himself on the counter opposite her, picking up his bowl of cereal. "Wull…wut kinda guy we talkin' bou'?"

"…older."

He choked on his cereal, spraying the floor with crunch berries. "_Me?_" he wheezed, eyes watering.

She waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, not you. No offense."

"Oh…okay." He settled down, picking up his spoon again. "How old?"

She twiddled her thumbs. "Thirty years or so." Give or take a few.

"Oh. Wull, 'at's not too bad," 2D said cheerfully. "Murdoc used t' get in all kinds o' trouble o'er girls 'alf his age – 'ew all right?"

"I'm fine," she managed.

"'ey…"

"Hmm?"

"'s not Russell, is it?"

"…no 2D, it's not Russell."

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident, up until the point where Noodle went back to the kitchen for more food, _and she wasn't stress eating shut up_, and Murdoc walked in.

She felt more than saw him, because Murdoc was like that when he wanted to be, silent and intense and just overall unnerving with his muted dark presence. She paused just briefly. Then she continued to try her damndest to reach the Captain Crunch, which 2D had so wittingly placed at the very back of the top shelf. He probably knew no one else could reach it. He could be so territorial sometimes.

She decided she would only make things harder on herself if she just ignored him, so she acknowledged him with a level, "Hello, Murdoc."

He leaned against the fridge to watch her, scrunched face crookedly amused. "Having trouble there?"

His tone was low and gravelly, which probably meant he was in one of his exceedingly rare 'I'm relaxed and not particularly inclined to yell at everyone' moods. She wasn't sure if this helped or hindered her situation. It certainly made her back tingly.

"I cannot reach 2D's cereal," she explained. "He's put it too high up."

He raised an eyebrow, one hand reaching forward to scratch absently at his crotch. She tried not to notice that he was only wearing a pair of jeans. "'s not like yeh, Noodle-girl. Eatin' other people's cereal 'n shit."

"Proud of me?"

He cackled happily. "Fuckin' right."

She was coaxed into a small smile, and, well. So maybe there was a reason to like him. As far as Murdoc went, this was practically heartwarming.

He watched her stretch her body to its limit for a little while longer and then sighed, a little impatiently. "Sweet Satan, watching you's pathetic." He stepped forward until he was behind her and, ignoring how suddenly taut she had gone, stood on his toes to swipe it, weight pressing her into the edge of the counter and stomach leaning hard against her back.

As well as his groin. Agghhfndslka.

He handed it to her with an offhand "Here. Shit." Then he apparently noticed that her face had exploded, because he took a step back and narrowed his eyes and goodness had he been warm. A bit musky, yes, but not in a necessarily bad way. Not in a good way, but certainly not a bad way.

"You're not fucking sick, are you?" he asked roughly, looking her over. "The last thing I need is you getting sick. What've you been doing t' get sick, huh?"

"Um. Um."

He tried to put a hand on her forehead, and her fragile nerves snapped like a twig.

In retrospect it really wasn't a surprise that her response was to squeal, punch him in the stomach, and flee, but it was still embarrassing. She grabbed an edge of the laundry room door and flung herself inside. She pressed herself flat against the wall, Murdoc's wheezy spitted curses ringing in her ears. As well as the hallway.

Yeah…yeah this might not work.

She was still there, face as flushed as it went and heart very clearly telling her just how excited she was when 2D meandered in, arms full to bursting with a pile of miscellaneous garments. He glanced at her once as he sidled past but didn't ask, cramming his load into the washer. It was probably one of his most perceptive moments in memory.

Then he tilted his head, as if just noticing the steady stream of profanity coming from down the hall. Then he looked at her, her bright red face and heaving chest.

His eyes suddenly widened, and her stomach dropped. His head swiveled towards Murdoc, then back to her, then back at Murdoc. His lips parted in momentous wonder.

"_Oh._"


	4. Nights

Demons were an unavoidable part of life when you lived in Kong. Along with zombies, a heavy loss of hygiene, and the unspoken avoidance of the hell hole under the car park. If you wanted to stay alive, and 2D did, you accepted this.

He was having a hard time remembering why he ever had.

You could say he looked pathetic, huddled up under his blankets with a pillow over his head to try and drown out all the noise of the creatures prowling around his ceiling, but at the moment 2D didn't really give a flying fuck. Something, most likely a projectile, hit the end of his bed and bounced off his foot. He quivered, too insanely terrified to check. A slimy giggle followed after, making his heart rate shoot up, reverberating in his ears. He tried to make a noise, a scream or a whimper or a cry for help, but his throat was too tight and dry and all that came out was a choked squeak.

Then suddenly it all cut off, the thumps and the snickers and the gnashing of pointy little teeth. 2D held his breath and waited, utterly still. After an entire minute had gone by he relaxed, a relieved smile unfurling across his tight face.

Then he felt a tiny hand creep under his pillow and brush his cheek.

He shot out of bed and flew for the door, vocal chords almost ripping themselves in half. "MUUUUURRDOOOOOOC!"

He reached the Winnebago in record time, heavy breath whistling around his mouth. He _flung_ himself at the door, pounding away at it with his fists. "OPEN THA DOOR OPEN THA DOOR MURDOC PLEASE OPEN THA DOOR – "

He could hear them laughing, all – lots and lots of them. Getting closer, and closer, and he practically couldn't breath now he was so scared –

And then the door burst open and Murdoc stood there, and 2D could have cried. He hurried forward to get inside and shower the man with his gratitude, it was so intense.

Then Murdoc's fist connected with his face, and the door slammed shut again.

2D spent a stunned moment standing there, and then he heard something shift behind him and his instincts kicked back into action. Blood was spattering onto his shirt, nose blood if he could guess from the feel of his face. He hesitated for just a moment, debating, then sprinted off to the lift.

Russell didn't seem entirely surprised to see 2D standing outside his door in the middle of the night, blood dripping off his white, gaunt face, but he did look irritated.

"D, what the hell…"

"Demons, Russ," he cried pitifully, quaking where he stood. "'ey're in me room!"

Russell ran a heavy hand over his face, entire body seeming to sag tiredly to the ground. "Man, it's probably just 'cause Noodle kicked 'em all outta hers. You know they can't do shit to you, just ignore them."

"But Russ, the wos touchin' me," he pleaded.

Russell stared at him for one long, unreadable moment where the only sound was the steady drip of blood to the floor. 2D shifted nervously.

"…get in," Russell said, resignedly throwing the door open. 2D happily complied.

The next day he sent Noodle to his room, and the demons never bothered him again.


	5. A Trip to the Grocer's

They didn't have any food.

And Russel didn't mean that in a petulant, exaggerated way. They really, truly didn't have anything in the kitchen that wasn't either alive or too far rotten to even consider consuming.

Now, Russel thought he was a pretty easy guy to please. Give him a set of headphones, a few donuts, and a porny magazine or two and he was good to go for the day.

But this shit just wasn't acceptable.

And it was with this thought in mind that he lumbered down to the car park, pausing briefly to consider the stairs but in the end bypassing them for the lift. He knocked twice on 2D's door, waiting until he heard a quiet "C'min." to pull it open.

2D's slack face was pointed to the TV, controller in hand. Noodle was at his side, chattering out what Russel suspected to be swear words in Japanese and bumping shoulders when she got too excited. Her newly colored hair gleamed a striking fuchsia in the light. Russel paused for a moment at their strangeness, huddled together on 2D's bed like a pair of multicolored aliens.

Then 2D paused the game and turned his wide, gaping eyes towards him, and the moment was broken. Noodle gave him a toothy smile. "Hallo, Russel-san."

"Hey, girl," he replied, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "Listen, D, what the hell happened to all the food?"

2D's face was perfectly innocent, expression wide and sweet and open. Russel crossed out the possibility of it being his fault. That guy couldn't even lie to save Noodle's ass. "Wotcha mean, Russ?"

And he'd forgotten that 2D more or less just didn't eat. "Food, man, we ain't got none. I was only gone a couple of days, where'd it all go?"

"Oh, Murdoc-san had…a, ah, _slutah _party?" Noodle piped up, tongue twisting around the foreign word. "Many girls here. Very nice. They did my hair for me!" she added happily.

Well, he'd been wondering where she got the dye. It didn't particularly bother him that she'd procured it from a group of strippers; so long as each and every one of them had a vagina it was cool.

"An' they cleared out the fridge?"

She nodded, choppy locks bouncing around her face. "Yes. They didn't seem very interested in Murdoc-san…"

"I wos wonderin' why 'e wos so moody," 2D said blithely. "Prac'ticcly spit all 'oer m' face when a couple came back t' m' room, 'e did."

Russel glanced once at Noodle, and then just gave up. She probably already knew everything she ever possibly could about penises and the people attached to them anyway.

He did rub tiredly at his eyes though; something about the way 2D's oblivious voice mixed with his accent made talking to him somewhat exhausting. "Well look, you guys want anything from the store? 'm gonna go soon as I can get the keys off Mud's nasty ass."

"May I go!" Noodle shot up. "Russel-san, please, please may I accompany you please – " at this point she garbled off into Japanese and Russel had to hold up a hand to silence her.

"Sure, that's cool. Jus' lemme get them keys…"

She sprang off the bed and streaked out the door, heading for Murdoc's Winnebago at breakneck speed. "Murdoc-kun Murdoc-kun Murdoc-kun Murdoc-kun Murdoc-kun – "

It only took about fifteen seconds for the Winnebago door to be kicked open, revealing its owner in all his sickly half-clothed glory. "Satan below, _what _you little bugger, _what?_" he snarled, looking down at Noodle like she was something he'd peeled off the bottom of his shoe. Murdoc's moods always took a nosedive around noon; Russel attributed it to the fact that that was roughly the same time he woke up.

She chirped at him cutely. "Keys for store?"

"Don't talk the me in tha' fuckin' gibberish kook – "

"We need to go to the grocery store," Russel rumbled, coming up behind her. "Lemme borrow the Geep."

Murdoc's bloodshot eyes narrowed and some part of his generous expanse of teeth clenched, and Russel knew he was going to be a stubborn dick about it.

"_The_ Geep? Far as I c'n remember it's _my_ Geep."

Russel sighed, a quick, angry exhalation of breath. "Man, can we not do this right now?"

Murdoc's lips pulled back into a sneer. "Fine with me," he drawled, and started to slam the door shut.

Russel's foot just managed to catch it, and _damn_ if that motherfucker wasn't strong for someone who weighed hardly a hundred and seventy pounds. Murdoc grunted a little and shoved, trying to either force the door shut or cut Russel's foot off.

"Shit," Russel growled, heaving against the other man's weight. "What the fuck is your problem, you goddamn cracker bastard – "

Noodle's stomach chose this frenzied moment to let the world know how unhappy it was, releasing an earth-quaking rumble that echoed around the car park. Both men were reduced to stillness.

There was a beat of silence.

Murdoc threw up his hands with an incensed snarl. "_I'm driving_."

* * *

By the time they'd left, Noodle's stomach's dialogue had increased in volume and frequency, and Russel's was starting to join it. 2D meandered over from his room and decided to tag along, and Russel managed to talk Murdoc into putting on a short-sleeved black T-shirt.

Murdoc's driving was probably one of those things Russel was never ever going to appreciate or get used to. Russel could trust them to stay out of any wrecks, because Murdoc was a _competent_ driver, but he still spent the trip in a state of general hysteria. Noodle leaned herself as far over the edge of the door as she could manage, eyes bright and happy and vibrant as the rough ride whipped her around like a rag doll.

She was never getting her own car. Never. Ever. Ever.

They squealed into a parking space sideways, and Russel waited for the car to come down from its two-wheeled balancing act to hiss, unclench his hands from around his seatbelt, and check to see if he'd pissed himself.

The death ride seemed to have lifted Murdoc's spirits, so that by the time he put the Geep into park and stepped out he was actually smiling, and even opened Noodle's door for her.

"All right," Russel said, glancing around nervously. They'd already attracted attention from a small crowd of girlscouts. 2D was looking at them intently, and Russel pictured the mental struggle. _Girl Scout cookies come from…girl scouts? Yes? Maybe? Oh the universe and its mysteries. _ "Okay. Everyone just – just grab a cart and get what you want."

They scattered, with 2D shuffling over to the cereal and Noodle bouncing after their driver to the alcohol aisle, apparently deciding today was Murdoc day. Russel stood for a moment, creating his own mini-blockade with his girth, and then headed over to the produce.

He himself started to feel a little better once he got into the routine of it. At one point two very drunk, very Murdoc-esque men yelled his way to ask him why he was in the salad section, but that only took one dark look and a not-so-subtle flash of the kitchen knife at his belt to take care of. Grumbling a little to himself about jacked up little fuckheads with too much goddamn time on their hands that wasn't already devoted to their shriveled little dicks, Russel tossed a cabbage into his cart and moved on.

He passed through three more aisles without incident, up until the point he caught a flash of black and paused, suspicious.

Murdoc was crouched down by a very curious Noodle, one companionable arm looped around her shoulders. As Russel watched he bent his neck and snickered in her ear. "Now watch 'is, luv."

And it was with a sinking heart that Russel watched 2D walk innocently around the corner, arms full to bursting with ten different kinds of breakfast bars, and immediately slip, hitting the ground with his ass in the air.

It was hard to be heard over Murdoc's resultory hysterics and Noodle's excited shouts of "Again, 2D-kun!", but Russel managed.

"_MURDOC!_" he thundered, stomping over to them. He slid, almost lost his balance, and had to throw his arms around 2D's head to stay upright. The floor was covered in a slick, clear liquid. Russel felt his temper fly up. "_What the fuck is this shit on the floor?"_

Murdoc had his arms wrapped around his torso, forehead almost touching the floor in his hilarity. "…_soap_, lards…careful, don't have a heart attack…"

Russel heaved 2D to his feet by the scruff of his shirt, fuming. He really felt like wrapping one justified hand around Murdoc's greasy little throat, but Noodle was still attached to him, and that just complicated things.

"This is goddamn ridiculous," he raged. "You can't keep pulling this shit every time we go somewhere!"

"An' why not?" Murdoc demanded back, red eye glinting. "'f ya ask me these _people_ should be thanking me for some entertainment." He patted Noodle's shoulder. "Jus' ask Noodle."

"Man you know she's twelve damn years old, you gotta press this shit on her before she can even – "

"2D-kun, your shirt's slimy," Noodle commented happily.

2D looked down at it, plastered wetly to his chest. "Yeah…it is, isn' it?" he said, not sounding particularly bothered by the fact. In fact, now that he was over his initial surprise at his feet suddenly leaving the earth, he looked rather unfazed about the whole situation. He was even smiling a tiny bit, like it was just a goodhearted joke among friends.

Russel resisted the urge to tear out his nonexistent hair in his supreme frustration.

"Where the hell's yo' cart?" he demanded instead.

Murdoc nodded to where it stood abandoned, full of an assortment of sugar cereal, pop tarts, cookies, and tequila. Russel felt another automatic twinge of irritation. They'd all probably just goddamn starve if he didn't enforce his 'real food once a day' rule.

"All right…everyone check out," he grumbled resignedly. "We're done."

"Aw, but I ain't even got to tha fig 'ewtons yet, Russ," 2D started pitifully, but was silenced with a single, blazing look.

"We got some…some…Murdoc-kun, what's the name again?"

"Keebler, luv. With all the elves an' everythin'."

Watching Murdoc and Noodle interact was like watching a schizophrenic pit bull frolicking with a kitten. You never knew whether it wanted to nuzzle it up to its teats or rip it to shreds. Except it wasn't quite as nerve-wracking, because Noodle could reduce Murdoc within an inch of his life without breaking a sweat if she wanted to.

"Keee_eee_bler," she repeated, nodding. "Yes. We have some, 2D-kun."

His face brightened like the fucking sun had just come out. "Oh good."

Similarly, watching Noodle and 2D's interaction was somewhat akin to watching a preteen girl half-babysit someone over twice her age. Pathetic.

Russel managed to flag down a store attendant and convince him the floor had been slathered with strategically-placed dishwashing soap before they'd gotten there, and that left them free to cut to the front of the line with a couple flashes of Murdoc's tongue at some middle aged women. Russel paid and they all trudged to the Geep, which was now surrounded by a small crowd of amused spectators, taking pictures of the skid marks with their camera phones.

Russel muscled his way through them and, with a couple of crippling kicks to the shin a la Noodle, they scattered. Their purchases were crammed into every available corner and Murdoc slipped into the driver's seat, clawed hand reaching for the shift.

Russel climbed in after him and wondered when his life had gotten so goddamn complicated.


	6. MITNITH

AKA Murdoc's Introduction to Noodle's Introduction to Hormones

* * *

Murdoc had forgotten just how hard Noodle could punch. Harder than Russel could, in all likelihood.

It took a full three minutes for his stomach to unpeel from itself and his coughs to subside into something somewhat manageable. He slowly straightened, wincing at the feel of his newly damaged not-so-healthy-in-the-first-place organ. Little bitch bruised him, definitely.

And while he was on that subject, what the _hell?_

What had _that_ been about? It had been a while since Noodle had thrown one of her famous spaz-outs, say, two or three years, and even so, what had set her off in the first place? Was she mad he'd gotten the stupid cereal for her? Didn't kids get over the 'I can do it MYSELF' phase when they were…five? Ten? Eh, he couldn't keep up with that shit. She was too old for it, anyway.

He rubbed the sore spot absently, scowling contemplatively at nothing in particular. He had a few options here. One, he could track her down and wreak some form of revenge, which would be generally fun but would require a hell of a lot of effort on his part. Two, he could track her down and try to figure out what her problem was, which was less appealing, the right thing to do, and would still require a lot of effort. Or three, he could go with his original intent upon emerging from his Winnebago; grab a beer and get on with his day.

Beer it was, then.

Pop, fizzle…mmm. Maybe he'd check on Noods later on after all. It couldn't hurt.

So Murdoc plopped down on the couch with that thought in mind, beer pressed soothingly against his throbbing stomach, and flipped on the TV.

Except it didn't really work out that way, because Noodle was avoiding him like the plague.

He didn't notice at first. Half because he was drunk, and half because Noodle was a big girl and he didn't care that much. And also another half because it wasn't all that unusual in and of itself for all four of them to not run into each other all day; Kong was huge and they all enjoyed their privacy. Noodle more than others, sometimes. Being that she was a girl, and all, Murdoc kind of just forgot every once in a while…

But then around dinnertime he was a little, emphasis on the little, sober, and it couldn't escape his notice that she walked in on him tuning his bass, guitar strapped to her back, squeaked, and promptly hauled ass in the other direction. He stared down the hallway she'd disappeared from, too fuzzily surprised to yell anything after her.

That wasn't normal.

Noodle wasn't meek, and Noodle wasn't apologetic, especially not towards him, and for her to act either was just _off_. He scratched at his throat, and decided to definitely look into it. He couldn't have his band being all pansy ass awkward; that was for people who didn't have worldwide fame and talent on the line.

Plus some deep, sheltered part of him that usually only manifested itself when springy little girls with purple hair were around was a little curious. _He_ hadn't done something, had he?

Then Russel bellowed that dinner was ready, and it clicked in his ever-so-fresh mind that this was a perfect opportunity. Noodle wouldn't dare risk her big black papa's wrath lest she skip dinner. He was already paranoid enough that Murdoc and 2D were rubbing off on her too much as it was.

Which Murdoc thought was pretty hilarious. Noodle was as staunchly independent as they got; she shaped _herself_. Murdoc wouldn't be able to stand her otherwise.

He rested his bass against the wall and strolled off in the direction of the kitchen, arms limp at his sides. Yeah, Noods wouldn't be able to get out of this one. He'd see her at dinner and, if it came down to it, corner her afterwards, and he'd force it out of her. Being that she was part of his band, she owed him complete honesty anyway. Congratulating himself on such a fine example of a plan, he almost missed it when a skinny blue-haired man attempted to sidle past him unnoticed.

Fortunately years of ingrained habit prompted Murdoc to instinctively snag the back of his shirt, taking a lazy kind of pleasure in his ringing yelp of alarm. 2D struggled valiantly with Murdoc's Grip of Death for all of a second, then his meager strength gave out and he was forced to concede defeat. Murdoc's malicious grin stretched over a good half of his face.

"Where ya goin', Dullard?" he asked pleasantly.

2D twisted his neck to look at him imploringly, practically radiating silent waves of _please don't hit me._ "I wos goin' t' dinner I wos, Muds," he bleated. "'cuz Russel called me."

Oh, yeah. And Russel probably wouldn't appreciate 2D showing up at the table sopping wet with blood. Murdoc generously released him. "Just checking."

He continued on down the hallway, making sure he heard 2D meagerly shuffle after him. And then something suddenly occurred to him. He stopped, not even remotely surprised when 2D ran into his back with a small _oomph_, and turned around.

"'ey D, you seen Noodle today?" he inquired. She spent half her time hanging around him anyway, it wouldn't be surprising. "She's been actin' real funny around me."

2D blinked at him in confusion, as if wondering why he was asking. Then something in his face abruptly clicked, and he _just slightly_ angled himself away from him, weight shifting from foot to foot. Murdoc narrowed his eyes, every single instinct switching instantly over to suspicious. Now, what was this here?

"I dunno, Muds," 2D chattered nervously. "'oor a funny guy an' everyfink…"

"Have you seen her," Murdoc said, slow and deliberate and dangerous. "Or not?"

"Um…maybe?"

"Don't gimme that shit," Murdoc snapped, and 2D cringed like he'd hit him. "Something's been up with her all day and I wanna know what."

"Well – well why don't ya jus' ask 'er yo'self?" 2D stammered, voice pitching higher and higher with every word. He looked about ready to piss himself. He knew something.

"Because she's been avoiding me, haven 't you been paying attention?" he sneered. "And she wouldn't tell _me _if she had a problem, Dullard, she'd tell _you_. So what is it?"

2D opened his mouth wordlessly a few times. Then his expression turned curiously blank. He looked up at Murdoc as if he had just come to some startling new revelation.

"'oor _worried_ abou' 'er."

The resulting animalistic snarl and violent scramble-chase was loud enough to shake the entirety of Kong. 2D fled for dear life itself with Murdoc hot on his heels, murder ringing in his ears. They rounded the corner just as Murdoc's fingers wrapped tightly around 2D's skinny little throat.

Noodle, seated silently at the dinner table, stared at them.

"Sit yo' ass down," Russel ordered shortly, setting a pan of lasagna down in front of her. "_Now_."

Murdoc was forced to obey, lest his nose be finally relocated to the back of his brain. He released him, fingers flexing from the effort, and 2D gratefully stumbled over to his chair and slumped into it. Murdoc, after another warning glance from Russel, slowly followed, seating himself across from Noodle and watching the way she immediately stiffened.

And that was just weird, because Noodle was never stiff, Noodle was Noodle.

Murdoc served himself a portion of lasagna without thanks and started to eat, watching Noodle out the corner of his eye. She was looking conspicuously away from him, neither smiling nor talking as the meal progressed. So, no luck there then.

He cleared his throat, more out of habit than anything else because his voice was never going to be clear no matter what he did, and addressed her. "So Noods. How's yer day been?"

The table went dead quiet. 2D was looking from him to Noodle and back again, eyes narrowed. Even Russel did a double take. Noodle's fork paused halfway to her mouth, seeming to realize that if she ignored him she'd just dig herself into a deeper hole.

He had her trapped. Heh. Heh. Heh.

After glancing once at Russel and once at 2D as if asking for help and getting no response, her jaw clenched and she stared hard at Murdoc's shoulder, which flexed automatically. For some reason this appeared to be a mistake on her part; her cheeks flooded with color.

"Well," she said shortly, and returned mechanically to her meal.

…well that hadn't really helped at all, except to confirm his suspicions. He frowned at her for a long time, which she studiously ignored.

Just experimentally, he slid down in his chair and nudged her knee with his.

She shot up from the table as if electrocuted, eyes wide. "Russel, I believe I am sick. May I retire to my room?"

Murdoc stared at her. He stared at her very, very hard.

Noodle only reverted to all that formal nonsense in two situations; when she was in interviews and had to appear to the public like she had half a brain since her band mates didn't bother, and when she was scared and putting up a front.

His leg twitched.

She was _afraid_ of him? What the fuck had he done to make her _afraid_ of him? Besides all the boozing and hookers anyway; she was used to that shit.

Russel looked a little startled, but he nodded. "Sure, go on up. I'll get yo' plates for you."

She nodded curtly and left with a hushed, "Thank you."

Murdoc cleared his throat again. "Russ, I'm feelin' kinda shitty too – "

"Shut the fuck up and eat."

* * *

Three days later Murdoc had had enough. Noodle had managed to worm her way out of two practice sessions, remained silent as death whenever he came into contact with her, and was overall just acting happy as a castrated walrus. Fuck it all, he was worried.

And that was how he found himself outside her room, banging away at her door without abandon. No more of this beating around the bush shit, he was going to find out what was wrong with her and he was going to find out _now_.

"Noodle!" he yelled. "I know yer in there, yeh little monster. Come the fuck out!"

No response. He was getting disturbingly used to that.

"_Noodle_, I'll break the _bloody door down_ if yeh don't open it _right fucking now_."

And then he suddenly found himself face to face with her, and for the first time in days she looked pissed.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't, Murdoc-_san_," she hissed at him, eyes spitting green fire from under her bangs.

He slowly lowered his hand. "Keep actin' like that an' I won't," he drawled. Then he shoved the helmet he was holding at her. "Here."

She took it gingerly, body language still settling at resentful. It made his dried up little heart hum with pride. "What for?"

"_We're_ going for a ride," he said shortly, turning to go. When he didn't hear her following him he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "Or I could tell Russ about all 'em pervy mags ya got under yer mattress, it doesn't matter t' me either way."

If she was angry before she was _furious_ now, glaring at him while her hands clutched the helmet tightly enough to throttle someone. "I was _curious_," she fumed.

"Yeah, so was my dick. Now come on."

He started off again, relaxing when he heard her choppy Japanese trailing after him; most likely death threats. He smiled to himself.

The walk to the car park was relatively peaceful, but when Murdoc led her over to his army-green Harley she stopped dead. "No."

He glanced at her. "Sorry?"

"I said no."

"I say yes," he said, lip curling as he fought his rising impatience. Something was up, something was wrong; this was Noodle, she was the best damn guitarist he'd ever find, she was _Noodle_…

She straightened to her full height, which for a sixteen year old girl was pretty considerable, but he still had a few inches on her. "I could kill you," she told him, eyes steely.

He just raised his eyebrows. "An' are ya gonna?"

She frowned at him ferociously, but then slumped and stepped forward, starting to strap her helmet on. "I really dislike you sometimes," she grumbled.

He grinned at her and clapped her on the back. "Darlin', everyone dislikes me sometimes."

He pushed off the kickstand and straddled it, looking at her pointedly until she got on behind him and lightly wrapped her arms around his chest. He snorted. "Unless you wanna go flying ass over head you might should hold on tighter."

She grudgingly complied, scooting closer until her crotch was spooning his ass and her breath warmed the back of his neck. Feeling deeply satisfied with himself, he ground on the accelerator and shot forward, feeling Noodle's arms tighten around him immediately. They roared out of the car park in a cloud of exhaust.

Murdoc went straight for the highway, because right now he didn't have the patience for stop signs and cross walks and all that other archaic shit. He just wanted to _go_, and he had an inkling that if they were out in the open, flying uninterrupted over miles and miles of endless asphalt Noodle would be more inclined to open up.

She always had liked his driving. She'd probably be the only one who ever did.

It took three minutes for her spine to unlock, and five more for her to give in to her discomfort and lean against him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He would have looked at her, but that would have dislodged her. He settled for running his tongue satisfactorily over his bottom lip and chuckling.

"Feelin' better?" he asked, yelling over the roar of the wind.

She was right by his ear, so she barely had to raise her voice. "…sorry."

"Eh…don't be."

"I meant about punching you in the gut."

"Oh…yeah, well, yeh should be sorry for that."

They were more or less completely alone on the road, and that suited Murdoc just fine. He liked having the extra room to weave around. He waited until he was completely sure she was relaxed, then dropped the bomb.

"So what's all this shit that's been goin' on between you 'n me?"

She was dead silent for the longest of times, long enough that Murdoc felt himself tense in preparation for her inevitable withdrawal. Then she sighed, very quietly, fingers moving to toy with the ends of his hair

"Teenage girl thing," she said finally, voice low. "Don't worry about it."

Whenever Noodle brought up her age and gender it was a clear sign that she wanted to be left alone, serious business. Murdoc dropped it; he could only push her so far.

They rode on in silence for several minutes. And it wasn't even a bad silence. Noodle had always been such a cool kid, it was hard to feel awkward or uncomfortable around her. He still didn't know what the fuck the past few days had been about, but, well. She was with him now. For the moment he was content to just ride along, with her fingers in his hair and the wind whipping at his face and her pert little nipples pressing into his back.

His brain screeched to a halt.

Oh.

OH.

Oh _fuck._

And on a lesser note, oh _that's_ what it was.

Noodle was a little startled when he abruptly swerved to the left and flew jerkily over the grassy median, but she was delighted all the same. She wasn't so delighted when he rushed them back, all but kicked her off his bike, and locked himself in his Winnebago. He went straight for his bottle of tequila, unscrewing the cap with shaking fingers and taking a long, deep swig that made his eyes burn.

He tapped his nails against the glass bottle, staring hard at Cortez. The bird cawed curiously.

"Fuck."


	7. Found

"Stuart!"

2D paused, blinked a couple of times, and shook his head, continuing on his way. He'd been hearing his name being called a lot since the second or third day he showed up on his father's doorstep. Sometimes male, sometimes female, usually with a _kun_ attached to it, depending. He'd accepted a while ago that it probably wasn't a side-affect of his pills and he might just be crazy. Insanity was a relative thing, anyway…

_"Stuart!"_

It had never been quite that loud, though. Or clear. Or so blatantly…unaccented.

Something caught him from behind with the force of a compact sledgehammer, and he and his measly balance went down with a kind of surprised _pooh_ right beside the cotton candy vendor. He tried not to notice when he caught a mouthful of dirt and gravel.

"_Stuuuuuuuaaaaaartt!_"

Wot tha _fuck_ –

"'ey! Me name's 2D!" he said angrily, twisting his neck around and – and –

Big, green eyes. Long, shaggy hair. Noodle grinned at him, toothy and delighted. "Hello."

"Careful you don't break his skinny ass," someone grumbled nearby, and 2D twisted his body around in another spectacular display of flexibility to see what that was. Russel towered over them, doing this weird thing with his face where he scowl-smiled. Tried to scowl but ended up smiling. Whatever.

His brain was trying _so_ hard to make the connection. Noods and Russ, what was the significance. Uh…

OH! Ding-fucking-ling!

"NOODLE!"

He flipped himself over and gathered her up and squeezed her, face going right for her choppy hair. "Where'd 'oo come from! An' since when d'yoo call me Stuart?"

"I just returned from Japan." Her voice was muffled by his shirt. "My English is greatly improved."

"Oh…yeah, wull…I like 2D better."

She rolled off him and righted herself in one smooth, consecutive moment, then held out a hand to help him up. He slung an arm around her shoulders, unwilling to be separated. Russel gave up and just smiled, practically sparkling.

"Hey there," he said gruffly, and clapped him hard on the back. 2D beamed.

He tried to vocalize some of his utter rapture into words, and failed. "Guys!" he cried, voice cracking.

Noodle nestled her head against him, deeply content, and…huh. She was past his elbow. How old was she again?

His excitement, ever uncooperative, got the better of him and usurped into word-babble. "Ah can' believe 'oo came t' visit! Wait till 'oo meet Pop, 'e'll realy like 'oo, an' 'oo c'n see m' room, an' where I work, an' everyfink – "

"Uh, D? Chill out for a second."

2D fell short, blinking. "Somefink wrong?"

Noodle had gone a little straighter and a little less relaxed at his side, but she was silent, waiting for Russel to speak. He looked down at her questioningly, but she avoided his eyes.

"…Russ? Somefink wrong?"

Russel's jaw worked. "…man, we didn't come to visit. We came to take you back."

2D stared at him. "Back where?"

"Back to Kong," Noodle said quietly. "We want to bring the band back together. We want to start over again and fix every – 2D-kun!"

He didn't reply, just kept on in the direction he was going, face murderous. No. Heeeelll no. Fuck _that_.

He heard her running after him. "2D-kun, please!"

"No," he barked out, because she could probably outrun him so escape wasn't a viable option. "No way I'm goin' back there."

She skidded to a halt in front of him, little face so upset and distressed he had to look away. For once she actually looked her age.

…whatever it was.

"But – our family!"

"'s not a family so long as _'e's_ there," he retorted shortly, because 2D _could_ be short when he wanted to, and started to walk away from her again.

He'd hurt her feelings with that, definitely, because he was almost out of earshot when she came after him again. "He's not there!"

2D stopped dead. Oh. Well. Well, that changed things.

_Wait_. No it didn't!

"But 'oo're goin' t' find 'im, aren't 'oo?" he asked suspiciously.

Noodle winced, a little, then seemed to find her resolve again. "I don't know where he is," she said evenly. "But I plan on finding him, yes."

"Wull, then, I don' want nothin' t' do wit it," he snorted.

Something like anger seemed to ripple through her. 2D, having been on the receiving end of her displeasure in the past, stiffened and leaned a little away from her.

"You're acting like a child," she hissed, eyes narrow.

He worked his very hardest to keep his voice unimpressed. "Yeah, wull, good luck tryin' t' get me t' care."

"You're a coward!"

…okay, that kind of stung.

"Am not!" he said, offended.

"You are letting him kick you out of your own home!"

"'s not me – "

"Yes it is!" she insisted. "It's our home, and you're getting the opportunity to get there first!"

It took him a full ten second to process that, so much that he was halfway through turning his head belligerently away from her when it clicked. "Wait. Wot?"

Russel rumbled over to them, chest heaving and face slick with sweat. "God…damn."

Noodle kept her attention on him, face dead serious."This is your chance to – to assert your authority. Just don't _let_ him treat you cruelly. Prove that you are worth something."

…this was actually starting to sound kind of good. He didn't want to admit it, though. So he tried to look resentful.

"It's easy for 'oo t' say," he accused. "'e's never laid a finger on 'oo."

"'cause he knows if she did she'd break his neck," Russel said, exasperated. "Jesus."

Okay. Okay, this was all sounding really, really good. But still…

"Wot about me job? Me pop?"

And again Noodle looked weirdly vulnerable, uncertain and awkwardly trying to find her footing. He kept having to remind himself that she was a teenager now.

"Are you…are you truly happier here?" she asked.

"…wull, no," he admitted. "But – "

"D, shut the fuck up and pack."


	8. People, people

"People, people, everybody people, everybody making a soooouund."

Russel tried to tell himself they weren't drunk.

"People, people, everybody people."

But there was just a lot of giggling. And stumbling. And, uh, empty beer cans everywhere.

"Ohhhhhohohohhhh."

Noodle tried to do a pirouette off the couch, failed, and tumbled into a roll that she bounced neatly out of, laughing so hard it was a wonder she had any balance left. 2D was a little more composed, swaggering around the room with his arms going in every which direction, occasionally chuffing with amusement. His cheeks were flushed. 2D was just a little over buzzed; Noodle was hammered.

"People, people," he crowed happily. "Everybody people."

"Everybody standing their ground!" Noodle chirped, bouncing on the spot. With a little too much swaying. Okay, she was ho dancing.

Russel couldn't decide if he was Epically Pissed or not. On the one hand, Noodle was _fifteen,_ dammit, and 2D knew goddamn better than to give her alcohol. On the other, this was the most relaxed he had seen any of them since their shaky reformation, and just seeing Noodle and 2D laughing and dancing around the living room like penguins on crack was enough to fill him with deep-rooted nostalgia. Maybe…he'd let it slide. They hadn't noticed him watching from the doorway yet anyway.

Noodle was now pulling some complicated little shimmy-thing that he'd seen her do perfectly a thousand times but that kept tripping her up now, sending her into repeated hysterics. "People, people, everybody people, everybody making a – "

The door on the other side of the room burst open in a flurry of dust and angry angry testosterone. "OI! WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THAT RACKET? STOP THAT, STOP!"

Noodle squealed and tripped and laughed some more as 2D dashed past her. "Run, Noodle!"

They fled at high-speed, streaking past Russel without any kind of greeting. He could hear them cracking up all the way down the hall.

Murdoc ground his teeth furiously, lips peeled back and looking like he was considering going after them. Russel snorted a little and his eyes snapped over to him.

"Keep 'em quiet," he snarled. "I've got a hangover the size of your mum's esophagus."

He left and slammed the door shut behind him. Russel stayed there for a minute, looking at the knocked-over coffee table and the trash everywhere, and he pushed himself off the door frame, just barely smiling.

They were back on their way to recovery.

* * *

...when I'm in a silly mood, I write silly things.

Anyone have any request ideas? As long as it's halfway plausible I'll totally do it.


	9. NITMITNITH

Noodle tried not to suck on her nails, as a generality. It left them soft and breakable and it was a sign of weakness, so when she first discovered the nervous habit, she quashed it out with all the violent determination appropriate to a genocidal dictator.

But today she would let it slide.

Suck suck suck.

It wasn't _that_ big of a deal. So what if Murdoc had gone from actively pursuing her to treating her akin to the way one would treat top-tier toxic chemicals? So what if he'd all but thrown her off his motorcycle? So what?

(So maybe she shouldn't have pressed herself that close against him, but damn if he hadn't been encouraging her. Like _hell_ this was all her fault.)

Suck suck suck suck.

And, well, it wasn't like she _missed_ him or anything; they lived together, it was going to be pretty impossible for him to skirt her altogether. It wasn't like she was upset. He hadn't, really, hurt her feelings or anything.

Suck suck suck suck suck suck.

Dammit, no. She wasn't doing this. She wasn't going to _mourn_ because someone who was _unattainable anyway_ apparently didn't want to get as snuggly with her as she did with him. Maybe during her mid-life crisis. Not now.

She emerged from her room in her casual training gear – a long-sleeved T-shirt and some running shorts, a step down from her Formal Training Gear – bo over her left shoulder. Fine, yes, she would run from her problems, she would make herself so completely and utterly exhausted she wouldn't be able to think about her problems, but she wouldn't sit in her room and sulk over them. In times of crisis, she could at least say she was active.

(And this was, at least, a step up from Murdoc's method, which was, glug glug, the usual.)

Fortunately, the only person she ran into on her way downstairs was 2D. He took one look at her face and knew she had been mind-fucked.

"'oo okay?"

"He knows," she said simply.

He looked at her blankly for a few moments. Then his mouth fell softly open. "Oh."

"Mmm," she agreed, heading past him.

"Uh, Noods?" he called after her. "I didn't tell him."

She waved at him dismissively over her shoulder. "I know."

The dojo (affectionately known as "the room with all the fucking shit," "Noodle's space," and "doohickey hall," respectively) had been given to her for her twelfth birthday, fully furnished with plentiful targets (often replaced), soft mats for meditation and her more acrobatic feats that half the time ended in injury, and wall-to-wall gleaming hardwood floors. She had thanked Russell for weeks. She cracked out a couple of sore places in her neck and stepped inside, all ready to work until her muscles were reduced to bleeding little puddles on the floor that pleaded with her to stop.

She took one more step and stopped dead.

She almost dropped her bo, but her body was trained to hold _on_ to whatever she had in her hands when it was surprised, so instead she just went completely still, staring at the heap of organs and skin and booze plopped down in the middle of her training area like God's idea of a gag gift.

Who in the world would be in here, passed out almost naked on his back, but the object of her self-destructive filth-crusted motherfucking affections. Who _did_ these things to her?

She stood there, motionless and unabashedly staring at him, for what felt like hours. Then, in some far off corner of her mind that was there to react when she went into shock, it occurred to her that this was the most prime opportunity that she could have asked for.

She crept forward with all the stealth she possessed, though she couldn't really see why. If he was shitfaced (which she could generally just assume) then he would probably be out for hours regardless of what she did. Still, the dojo was deadly quiet aside from his snoring, and disturbing that seemed…wrong. Sinful, almost. Wrath-inducing.

She crouched down beside him with her face as straight as it got and nothing short of fascinated. It was weird, seeing Murdoc like this, open and unguarded. When he was awake he was always _doing_ something, scheming or cackling or consciously trying to radiate sex-appeal, but never relaxed. Even around her, or Russell, or even 2D sometimes, when he was off leaning against something with his eyes half-open and very clearly only half-there she knew he was paying attention, was listening and watching and probably waiting for the right moment to jump in and either draw attention to himself for the hell of it or jeer at one of them, also for the hell of it. It was almost like he _couldn't_ relax, like he always had to be up and ready because he didn't want to be down and passive and thinking about things he didn't want to think about. It was a little baffling, to Noodle, who was so in-tune with herself she hardly ever stopped to question anything.

Asleep (comatose) he couldn't exactly be called peaceful, but…it was strange. His face, when lax, fell into natural serious contours that spoke volumes more about his childhood than the man himself ever would. Noodle poked his cheek, just for fun, and her finger came away greasy. She wiped it off on his underwear.

Why did she like him again…?

…because he was strong and interesting and her brother and she loved him, of course, dammit.

"Murdoc," she said softly, poking him in the side. "Muuurdoc. Muuuuuddoo-kuuuun."

He snuffled a little but didn't stir. She watched him for a little while longer, sighed, and slipped his arm over her shoulders.

In retrospect she should have realized that by passing through the kitchen she was more than likely to pass by Russell, but with Murdoc's sweaty reeking body flung over her shoulders she didn't possess the foresight. He looked up from the enormous plate of eggs he was nursing, and she looked back, and for a good few moments the atmosphere was extremely uncomfortable.

"…taking care of him?" Russell finally asked.

Noodle wondered just what she looked like. Probably a cavewoman taking her prize back to her abode for a hearty rape session. Her brain twitched.

"I found him in the dojo," she shrugged. "I'm going to put him to bed and let him sleep it off."

Kind of like how he used to do for her, minus the alcohol, when she stayed up with him all night, and they were all alone, and he was absolutely sure no one could catch him. Noodle could vaguely recall these memories; snatches of late-night television she could only get away with watching around him, being carried, pressing her face into his shoulder…he wore shirts back then. He was also cleaner. Noodle wondered if his deterioration was a sign of age or just his own self-destructive nature.

Russell stared down at his food, frowning, then looked back at her. "Hey Noods?"

"Yeah?"

"You know he's been drunk off his ass since Thursday, right?"

"Yeah…"

His eyes looked eerily into hers. "Know anything about that?"

She didn't even hesitate. "No, not really."

If there was anything she didn't want this man to know, it was that she might very well have romantic inclinations towards someone over twice her age, and that he most likely vehemently rejected these inclinations. Enough so that he was drinking himself into a coma over them, apparently.

His eyes lowered again, accepting this. "There's some aspirin over in that cabinet if you wanna go all out."

"Hai."

She made her way down to the car park with a man and a bottle of pills in hand, and nudged the door to his Winnebago open with her foot, frowning a little. Murdoc wasn't stupid, he should have known better than to leave his home unlocked, drunk or not. There were _plenty_ of things that would love to get in.

She dumped him on the counter and did a quick sweep; all she found was a little pointy-eared demon in his bathroom sink. She kicked it out and locked the door behind her.

Murdoc's sheets…was there even a point in cleaning him if she was going to put him on _those?_ Noodle cursed fluently and creatively and started ransacking his bedroom.

She managed to find a threadbare towel-looking thing that _might_ have been sheets, judging by its size. She stripped and redressed his bed and then went back to the person it belonged to, who she plopped down without much thought.

After tearing through his bathroom she managed to find a washcloth, and she stole a bowl from his kitchen to fill with lukewarm water. When she got back to the bedroom Murdoc had managed to roll onto his stomach, body hanging half off the bed. She shoved him back and set about wiping off most of the sweat and grime from his body.

She was half-worried he would wake up and catch her giving him a sponge bath, because wouldn't _that_ just be awkward, but he did no such thing. The most alive he looked was when his tongue rolled lifeless down his chin. She had to push that back in too.

Noodle paused a little to look at him, half clean and unconscious and splayed all over his bed like a dead butterfly on display, and felt a pang of sadness.

She did miss him. She missed their late night escapades and laughing together and generally just doing things Russell didn't approve of. She missed their easy understanding of each other, all the little things that _bound_ them, separated them from the rest of the band. She missed being with him and not even having to say anything to each other. She missed playing music with him just for the sake of playing. She missed watching him erupt, watching him build and build and build and finally spew his rage onto whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing next to him, because that never got any less interesting. She missed all of that.

If this, this ostracization, was what came from _being in love_ with him, she didn't want anything to do with it. They could be friends again. She could pretend to be his friend again.

Her hand had unconsciously migrated to his brow, and she watched it push his hair back, gently working through the tangles.

And then she realized that his eyes were open.

Her hand whipped back so fast she was surprised she didn't gouge her eye out, and her terror-tense body took an automatic step backward, heart going at a mile a minute.

And he snuffled and pressed his head into his pillow, mouth hanging open again.

She didn't hesitate, didn't stop to wonder whether he was asleep or if she'd imagined it or if he was fucking with her, she harnessed the adrenaline pumping insistently through her and fled.

Russell watched her streak by him and wondered what she was running from.

* * *

Noodle skipped lunch, and dinner, and ignored 2D when he knocked on her door to ask if she knew where the aspirin were, which she felt bad for, but she didn't want anyone to look at her right now. Not when she felt so…dumb.

She didn't _like_ having her confidence rattled like this. It was shocking to her; she didn't know how to deal with it.

And of _course_ he couldn't have woken up while she was carrying him, or changing his sheets, or taking the bottle of peppermint schnapps from his nightstand. Of _course_ he had to wake up while she was _stroking his face_.

And this was assuming he'd even woken up. Noodle sure as hell wasn't going to ask him.

She paced around her room for an hour, raged to Mike in Japanese for an hour more, then finally settled down on her bed to see if she could coax herself into sleep. Two hours and a very intense yoga session later, she did.

She was spared from dreams; Noodle usually was unless her subconscious had something particularly important to tell her. She didn't know how long she stayed blissfully removed form the world, but at some point she was interrupted.

She blinked awake, disoriented, vision hot and fuzzy. She lay there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what had woken her and if she should be jumping for her katana any time soon, and someone knocked on her door.

Noodle pushed herself up, blinking. A quick glance at her clock assured her what she'd already instinctively known; yes, it was three in the morning, and yes, no one should have been knocking at this time.

She had an idea of who didn't care much about social niceties such as those.

He didn't knock a third time, he didn't need to, she knew he was behind the door waiting, doing his intense and silent thing again. She strode across the room, trying to steady herself, and flung her door open.

Murdoc was wearing pants, she noticed, and a shirt. She dragged her eyes up along his body up to his face, three or so inches higher than hers. He looked utterly exhausted, eyes glazed and face heavily stubbled.

He didn't say anything to her, and after a while she was forced to step back and open her door wider. "Come in."

He did, half-stumbling, and that, along with his reeking breath, was enough to assure her that he was still drunk. Heavily. She closed her door quietly behind her.

"You're drunk," she said plainly.

He looked at her blearily. "…always liked it in here."

He wandered over to her bed and sat heavily down on it, elbows resting on his knees. She hesitated, then sat next to him. For a while it was quiet.

"So what d'you think, Noods?" he asked abruptly.

"About what?" she replied cautiously.

"About some forty-something asshole rearing after your tits?"

Noodle was reduced to stunned, efficient silence. He…what?

He didn't. There was no way.

Then she looked again at his slumped shoulders and his petulant frown, and well. Either way, she didn't know what to say to that. She really didn't.

"You're not rearing after my tits, are you Murdoc?" she asked finally.

"…no," he admitted. "I don't think I am."

That could be taken two ways. If it was the way she thought it was…she looked at him again, eyebrows knit. He was drunk. He was so, so drunk. Murdoc didn't say things like that in passing conversation.

"Murdoc, how much have you had to drink?"

"A lot. A fucking lot." He glared at her floor. "You rearing after my tits?"

…Jesus, he almost sounded shy. "No, Murdoc," she said gently. "I'm not."

"Don't know why you'd even wanna," he snorted. "I'm all tough 'n stringy 'n shit."

Um.

"Murdoc…I don't like this," she said seriously. "I don't like everything being so strange and uncomfortable between us."

"You sayin' you jus' wanna be normal again?" he said musedly, still not looking at her. "Like none'a this weird shit ever happened?"

Did she? Did she really?

"I don't know."

"Yeah, well, I do. 's it make you uncomfortable, knowing a forty-something asshole wants you?"

She didn't even have to ask if he really wanted her or not. It was plain in the way he refused to look at her.

He was _killing_ himself over this, eating himself up from the inside. Noodle looked at him and felt her heart wrench, over his bony spine and familiar grey sweater and hands dangling loosely between his knees. He actually _hated_ the idea of wanting her.

And that was when it clicked to Noodle that Murdoc really did care about her, whether it be indirectly or in his own fucked up way or anything else. He cared about her. Holy shit, if he was actually restraining himself from something he wanted via alcohol he had to.

She grabbed one of his hands in hers because it was just hanging there and she wanted to, and he finally looked at her, eyes dark and partially hidden by the fringe of his bangs.

And Noodle threw caution to the wind, and squeezed him hard. Forget it. Forget logic, and standards, and what was right or wrong or whatever the _fuck_ else, she wanted it. Wanted him. And Noodle was so in-tune with herself that she figured it was time to stop questioning what she wanted.

"Murdoc, I'm an experiment," she said firmly. "I live right next to a portal to hell with three other men. I'm marked for extermination. I have _never_ associated with people my own age."

He looked at her blankly. "Noods, I'm really shitfaced, yer gonna have t' – "

"I don't care how old you are!" she said frustratedly. "Why does it even matter? We're not normal – you're not even physically forty!"

He leaned a little away from her, hand running raggedly over his face. "Satan, you're gonna kill me," he groaned.

"_Murdoc!_ Did you come up here for a reason or not?"

"I came up here 'cause I didn't know what the fuck else to do," he snarled. "And my Winnebago smells like shit."

He turned away from her again, to look broodingly at her wall.

"…'s not just 'cause I'm old," he muttered eventually.

That just made her sad. Noodle deliberated, steeled herself, and then inched forward. His head snapped around the second he felt her touch him, and she ignored him, scooting herself until she was nestled against his side. He neither protested nor reciprocated. She glared at him shortly, then tucked her head belligerently against his shoulder.

"Murdoc, shut up. Tomorrow you will stay sober, okay?"

He grunted a sound of general displeasure but didn't push her away. She closed her eyes.

"…Murdoc?"

"Yeah?"

"…did I wake you up when you were in your Winnebago?"

"I was never asleep. Went looking for you in that room a' yours 'n fell asleep waiting. Woke up when you picked me up."

"…I hate you."

He shifted a little bit so that he was leaning against her wall, then wrapped an arm around her, not too intimately but still familiar. She tried to turn her head to look at him but his face was pointed away from her, hidden.

She sat and listened to his breathing, getting deeper and more even as the minutes ticked by. Eventually it occurred to her that he intended to stay there.

She settled down into a more comfortable position and relaxed, breathing in his sweater, which, pleasantly enough, was relatively fresh.

She was almost asleep when Murdoc lazily dropped a hand on her head and mumbled at her, voice thick and clogged with exhaustion.

"Call me when you're eighteen, kid."


End file.
